


light of his life, fire of his loins (says it feels like heaven to him)

by scorpiod



Category: Ready or Not (2019)
Genre: Dubious Consent, First Time Blow Jobs, Guilt, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Masturbation, Shame in Sexual Desires, Sibling Incest, Somnophilia, Underage Sex, Voyeurism, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:01:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23746483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiod/pseuds/scorpiod
Summary: Alex can't sleep.This is bad, Daniel knows, but he can't stop it (he won't stop it).
Relationships: Alex Le Domas/Daniel Le Domas
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	light of his life, fire of his loins (says it feels like heaven to him)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hearthouses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearthouses/gifts).



> 1\. So much thanks for my beta, D, who is lovely and amazing and fixed this right up.
> 
> 2\. Title stolen from _Off to the Races_ , by Lana Del Rey, which I listened to on repeat while writing this. 
> 
> 3\. I have no actual idea what the age gap between Alex and Daniel is in the movie. It may well be bigger, but for the purposes of this fic, it's three years. 
> 
> 4\. I hope you enjoy this late treat <3

Alex has been crawling into his bed for as long as Daniel can remember.

( _since that first hide and seek game, crawling into bed with him after that first sacrifice)_

This is Daniel’s problem; he’s indulgent. He lets his little brother get away with anything he wants, because no one else will, and because it’s nice and fun to see the smile that lights up Alex’s face. 

It’s not Alex’s fault he’s like this. It’s Daniel. He never told him no. That’s how you create a brat—just look at Emilie. 

That’s not a fair thing to say about Alex and Daniel knows it—he’s seen Dad slap him across the face, and Mom hold him after while he cried and told him _Daddy’s only trying to help you._ Fuck, Daddy Dearest has done his far share of backhands with him as well, but somehow, Daniel didn’t get as much scrutiny—the benefits of being the fuck up, the pleasures of no expectations, only money and power and expensive cognac.

 _(Daniel,_ his mother told him once, _being drunk all the time isn’t actually an act of rebellion._ She said it sweetly, with a kiss on his cheek. It hit like a knife to the gut.)

Daniel, guilt eating away at his guts, slowly eroding him away, lets Alex do anything; he places him on a pedestal, and lets him shine further and brighter than he ever will. 

  
  


*

  
  


Alex, almost sixteen, shakes him awake. It hurts to be pulled out of a deep sleep. Daniel would like to be passed out longer. Passing out from drinking means he doesn’t have dreams or nightmares, he just _stops,_ for a little while. 

Alex’s eyes are dark blue in the dark, instead of their bright, baby-blue color he’s used to. He looks a little out of it, and smells a little bit unwashed, thick with sweat and musk. 

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" He asks. 

Daniel's throat is dry, and conversely, he craves more alcohol with it. He stares at Alex for far too long, longer than he should, trying to grasp what he’s asking. He isn’t fully _with it,_ so to speak. He may still be drunk. He glances at the alarm clock by the bed; 2:03 am. 

Passed out earlier than normal. Must be getting old, he thinks, laughing to himself for no reason, rubbing at the fine stubble growing on his chin. He’s only eighteen. _At what age does alcoholism start to age you?_

"Sure, brother,” he says, voice gravel. “Just turn the lights off," he orders. 

He doesn’t ask for an explanation. He just allows him this indulgence. 

Alex lights up, doing as he’s told, then crawls into bed with him, slipping under the covers easy like he belongs there. 

( _he does; where else would go? Not mom, not dad, not Emilie, not Aunt Helene, that’s for damn sure._

_Daniel is lucky; he knows Alex loves him best)_

  
  


*

  
  


It wouldn't be the first time they’ve touched. Alex has a habit of just...showing up in his space (because Daniel lets him.)

Daniel is nothing if not indulgent. Self indulgence, self pleasure—it’s all the same, right? Jerking off, drinking, doing lines of coke in the bathroom. Daniel is a hedonistic pleasure rat, he knows this about himself, it’s all he’s good at. 

So when he’s jerking it in his room, it takes a moment to realize he’s being watched. An embarrassingly long moment. Sometimes jerking off is a simple tug and go, stress relief so he can calm down and focus without the haze of teenage hormones blinding him, but other times, it truly is a treat. He dims the lights, steals his sister’s nice lavender hand cream, slicks his hand down so his dick will smell like flowers when he jacks off and goes to town; slowly rubs the dripping fluid around the head of his cock, drags his hand nice and slow up and down his shaft, shuts his eyes and let his fingers linger on the vein under his cockhead.

Daniel hears a tiny gasp, and his snap open. 

Alex, flushed, fourteen, stands in the doorway. Eyes on his dick. 

Daniel stops jerking his cock. Isn’t that the only proper thing for him to do? He can’t jerk off in front of his brother’s virgin eyes. 

Or can he? His brother is old enough to jerk off, isn’t he? Daniel was jacking it before he even hit puberty. 

Daniel has a sharp word on his tongue ( _Do you need tips, or something? You wanna borrow the hand cream?_ Or even meaner still: _jealous? It’s okay, baby brother, your baby dick will get bigger some day_ ) but none of the words leave his mouth. His chest feels tight, with something like panic. Something like a sick sort of shame, warring with arousal (or hand in hand, wrapped and entangled inextricably.)

He can’t make himself say anything. He can’t put his dick away. Without permission, his cock jerks up into his hand, as if guided by some outside force, and Daniel bites down on his tongue, holding back a shudder. 

This is _bad._ Seeing your brother’s dick is a normal occurrence, after all, but Daniel is the one being a weird little shit about it. 

"Can I watch?" Alex asks. 

Daniel blinks. Not the response he expected. His cock throbs hungrily in his hand, aching for release and Daniel makes another one of his trademark dumb decisions. 

"Fine," he says, almost angrily. _I'll play fucked up incest chicken with you._

He stares Alex down, and starts jerking off—properly now, almost painfully, hard sudden strokes and rubbing the bit that always feels good, where the head of his cock meets the vein underside it. Warm slick pleasure builds like a throbbing buzz under his skin, ready to burst. He moans, rolls his eyes back almost theatrically, trying to scare Alex away. 

“I’m all about that self-love, baby brother,” he says. There’s a lewdness to his voice, a hedonistic spin to his words, thick like pouring honey. That’s not the way people talk to their brothers, unless, of course, they’re a _Le Domas._ Rich people have all the fun. “You gotta treat yourself good. I hope you treat your dick right, when you rub one out. You only get one.” 

The problem is, Alex doesn't look away. He stares intently, eyes on Daniel’s cock. His own cock is hard in his jeans but he doesn't move to touch it. “Is that how you always do it?” he asks. Alex licks his lips and Daniel notices how pink they are, like a girl’s. 

Oh no, that’s a thought he needs to shove back down. _Bad, Daniel, bad!_

Daniel takes a moment to think (it’s not easy; the blood is all south in his little head). “Sometimes, I go harder,” he says, demonstrating, squeezing his cock until he feels tight enough to burst. 

Alex winces. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

Poor Alex. Too young to understand how sometimes a little pain is good. “It’s all about the experience, bro. A little pain just enhances it.”

Then Daniel slows it down, no longer squeezing. He slides his hand down to the root of his cock, down near his pubic hair and balls, and squeezes the base. “This though, you do it when you don’t want to come.” 

“Why wouldn’t you want to come?” Alex asks. 

Daniel laughs. “You’re so young. Sometimes you gotta hold back for a girl. Don’t be a two pump chump.”

Daniel twists his hand on the upstroke, makes a soft sighing noise, arching his back with it. Alex watching should wilt his dick but if anything, it feels hotter, his hips thrusting into his hand, orgasm rolling in his belly with white hot electric sparks.

“Fuck,” Daniel moans, low and thick and throaty. He comes with his eyes squeezed tight, and his hand around his cock tighter still, painful now, stroking hard and fast to wring his cock of all fluid. 

"Is that what you wanted to see?" he asks, still stroking up and down, wincing as it starts to ache from overstimulation. 

When he opens his eyes, Alex is gone. 

What a little jerk. 

He’s a bit disappointed; Daniel, idly, rubbing his come on his thighs and between his fingers, was going to get Alex to jerk off for him; only fair.

  
  


*

  
  


Sleep leaves him slowly. Sobriety usually hits like a ton of bricks, but it’s different right now. He doesn’t wake up, exactly, doesn’t spring to alertness or wake to a pulse pounding headache, but feels a haze come over him, a dull but warm sort of pleasure in his belly, squirming around his insides. 

This is a _nice_ dream, all hazy and strawberries and cream good, like expensive Cristal and the finest nose candy; he’s adrift, out to see, waves crashing over him, each one hitting him with a lurch in his belly, a moan escaping his mouth.

It takes a moment to realize he’s awake. That yes, he’s on silk black sheets, not the ocean, and the rolling hazy good pull in his guts is not a dream. The sound of flesh against flesh is in the air, the smell of salt and musk and sweat. Someone’s warmth is pressed against him—not a small, lithe model of a woman, but skinny nonetheless, long limbed, a wall of heat. 

Daniel moans into the dark room and realizes his eyes are closed.

He opens them and it takes a moment to recognize what he’s looking at, consciousness and imagery and the ability to see coming slowly, like being pulled out of a dark warm haze.

Alex is on top of him.

Alex has pulled down Daniel’s soft PJ bottoms and underwear, far enough to expose his cock.

Alex has his hand on his cock, barely stroking hard enough to do much of anything except create a pleasure warmth of _good,_ Daniel drunk on the sensation. Alex didn’t touch him with any intent or harshness, rather just playing around with his cock, fingers lighting running over the head, the shape of it, sliding down to get a feel for the shaft. 

Daniel pushes him away. He regrets it, almost immediately. Alex _cowers._ There’s no other word for it; shrinking into himself, on his ass, palms down at the foot of his bed. Daniel feels like the biggest piece of shit in the world. 

“What the fuck?” he breathes. 

"I wanted to touch," Alex says, trailing off, glancing down, not meeting Daniel’s eyes. 

His cock is hard. It’s plain to see, straining through his matching designer pajama bottoms. Daniel has seen Alex’s cock before but not hard, not like this.

A lot of things go through Daniel’s mind. A lot of fucked up dangerous thoughts and images, desire and horror tangling together. Alex, touching him. Alex on him. Alex’s pretty, pink mouth. Alex’s pretty pink cock, hidden away in his clothes, hard and drooling with precome.

"Jesus," Daniel breathes out. "For the love of fuck, _why?_ "

“You were hard,” Alex says. “I wanted to help.” He chooses his words carefully and Daniel knows what he’s thinking, that thoughtful look behind his eyes. This was not an impulse decision. 

“I keep thinking about it,” he says, “and you let me watch before, so I thought it was fine...can I help?” Alex replies, and like a terrible brother, he nods. 

Alex wraps his hand around Daniel’s cock and starts jerking him off, for real this time—not just lightly playing with his cock but good, hard strokes that Daniel feels in his spine. Alex remembers what he told him, from that first time almost a year ago, and the thought of that—Alex thinking about his cock, Alex replaying Daniel jerking himself off in his head—is enough to make him shoot off. 

Daniel comes all over his brother’s hand, moaning out his name softly. There’s no plausible deniability here. 

“Wow,” Alex says. He stares at his hand, the mess Daniel made of it, come sticky and already drying. Without a thought, Alex wipes his hands on Daniel’s sheets.

“Dude,” Daniel says. “I have tissue.” He doesn’t sound like a stern older brother though, he’s all breathless and out of it, still recovering. 

“Do you wanna...can you...” Alex says, hemming and hawing. He doesn’t finish the question but it’s plain what he’s asking for. Daniel nods, granting permission. 

“Show me,” he says, pointing at Alex’s crotch. 

Alex flushes a deep cherry red and Daniel thinks he’s going to chicken out (he thinks he’s going to run to mom, _Mommy, Daniel tried to touch my dick,_ and even though Alex crossed that line first, thought almost makes Daniel so nauseous, his head swims; can he spin this as playing doctor, at eighteen?)—but then he shoves his pants off down his hips, shimmying awkwardly out of them without standing up, arching his hips. 

Alex’s thighs are pale and thin, but pretty in the dim room light. He has skinny hips, the bone jutting out, creating indents where Daniel images he could put his mouth on. Daniel’s eyes linger on his body for longer than he should. He wants him to take the button-up off as well, even though he _knows_ what Alex looks like shirtless. It’s not any kind of secret. He wonders where these sick, _Fl_ _owers in the Attic, Le Domas style_ fantasies came from. 

Alex’s cock is red, swollen and leaking and Daniel lays back, sprawling out on the bed, luxuriating in the image in front of him, thinking over what to do. He can wrap a hand around his brother’s cock and jerk him off, whispering awful, filthy things in his ears about what he’d like him to do for him. _Flat on your back. Spread out for me. Spread those legs._

 _He’s fifteen, you sick fuck,_ Daniel tells himself, but it doesn’t stop the curl of arousal in his belly. Already, he can feel a half chub working its way out of his system, slouching towards a lazy kind of arousal yet again. 

_What do you want to do, Alex_?

“Lay down,” he tells him. Then, before Alex can react, Daniel leans over and pushes him down, pushing him flat on the bed. They’re inverse now, Alex lying under him, both of them with their shirts still on and cocks out, and somehow that just makes Daniel feel even more perverse. He just stares down at his brother, amazed by how much Alex trusts him, doesn’t matter what a monster Daniel feels like for enjoying the feel of his brother under him.

“Are you?” Alex asks, swallowing hard, arching his back, baring his neck to him. His throat is a pale column of sweaty skin and he’s skinny enough so his collar bone sticks out. _Are you,_ he asks, because he can’t finish the sentence, can’t ask if Daniel is going to fuck him, and if that’s asking too much of them both. 

“Just lie back,” Daniel says, and presses his palm on his chest, heat radiating even through pajamas, holding him flat on the bed. His mind is rushing a mile a minute. He wants his drunken stupor back from earlier, but he drank all the bourbon already. He is entirely sober, fully capable of making a good decision, and choosing not to anyway. 

He’s going to blow his little brother. 

He doesn’t know when Alex catches on. At what point does he realize what Daniel is going to do to him—when he runs his hands down his thighs? When he slides his hands down his body, his skinny ribs, his fluttering stomach, Alex’s skin erupting in goosebumps at his touch. 

He grabs his cock with his hand, gives him a firm stroke to make sure he’s fully hard for him. Does Alex know what he’s doing then?

Above him, Alex moans his name and that’s when Daniel realizes he’s not going to stop this. He’s not going to make a good decision. Alex is his best and favorite family member and right now he wants Daniel to get him off, so he will. 

“Holy shit,” Alex says when Daniel wraps his mouth around Alex’s cock, sucking on the head with wet, hungry sounds. “What the _fuck_?” His voice breaks on that last word, high and sweet.

For Daniel, this is easier. He doesn’t have to look his little brother in the eye and he can just focus on the heavy, salt musk taste of his dick, the way his cock gets so wet and slick with his own precome as Daniel licks at it, almost like a girl. It’s easier to alternate between simple sucking and long swipes of his tongue, hand wrapped around the base of it. He’s done this before, in a fit of rebellion, fooling around with the assholes at prep— _look at me mom and dad, aren’t I disgrace to this family,_ but it’s easier still with his brother—Alex doesn’t need any impressive technique. Daniel just needs to suck. 

Like he predicted, Alex doesn’t last long. He comes within just a couple of minutes of Daniel’s inept sucking, spilling down his throat, pulsing hot in his mouth. Daniel’s not so great at this part, choking and gagging easily at the sudden intrusion, and Alex’s come leaks out of his mouth. He pulls away then, just in time for the last Alex’s come to hit his lips instead of his mouth. 

“Holy shit,” Alex says, breathless. His eyes have glazed over with a sort of hazy lust. It reminds Daniel that he’s just a teenager, horny and eager, and he shoves down the sick feeling in his gut. 

Daniel licks his lips. He likes the taste of his brother anyway, shivering to himself. He’d happily do it again. Best blowjob he’s ever enjoyed giving. 

Daniel wipes his mouth, and can’t quite look Alex in the eye. No one in this family is a good person.

“Go back to sleep, Alex,” Daniel tells him.

“Daniel,” he starts, hesitant. Here it comes, Daniel thinks. He’s going to ask him to stop, not do this again. Gonna say he’s going to tell Mom. 

“Do you think I can do that...on you? Later?”

And Daniel should say, _no, you can’t, that’s wrong,_ and his eyes go wet because he can’t stop himself from saying, _yeah, whatever you want buddy_ instead of telling him no.

See, it’s not Alex’s fault he’s like this. It’s Daniel’s. 

“Sure, Alex,” he says, “but some other time? Go to sleep.” 

He expects Alex to leave, trot out of his room, go back to his own bed, but instead, he curls up next to him, like a hot ball of heat at his back, like earlier, shirt still on, their bare legs tangling together. He wraps an arm around him and snores gently throughout the night. Alex sleeps deeply and well, like that orgasm he gave him was just exactly what he needed.

Daniel lies awake all night. 

In the morning, he decides he needs a good, stiff drink. 


End file.
